Harry Potter from Many Points of View
by Gwen Weasley
Summary: Harry finds adventure in flying, magic, and even throwing up! This story is definetly not for the timid!


Prologue  
  
  
  
  
  
"Get up, now! Persuade your ruddy body out of bed and cook the breakfast! Now!" came a voice from outside a bedroom door. A boy named Harry Potter awoke with a start. He was thin, with brilliant green eyes, jet-black hair, and just visible behind his black bangs was a thin lightning bolt scar, the only indication of his mysterious past. It was his bony aunt barking orders at him as usual. He slowly sat up, dully looking around in blurred vision. 'Great. The things I will have to put up with today. Just my bloody luck, I had to wake up.' Harry thought. He felt around for his round glasses on his bedside table. Upon putting them on, he noticed that his snow owl, Hedwig, was still gone from a trip of delivering a letter to his Hogwarts friend, Ron Weasley. He looked in the mirror, making futile attempts to tame his wild hair. One single stream of light was protruding through his broken window, making a bright line on the floor. 'Maybe this will cheer me up a bit,' Harry thought. He leapt from his rickety bed to the vivid streak illuminating the floor. It was warm to his icy feet, and for a moment he just stood there enjoying it's warmth. He smiled for the first time in what seemed like ages. Harry, after warming his feet, walked along the beam of light to the door. He made his way down the polished stairs, past his old cupboard, to the kitchen, to find his three distant-like family members there. His corpulent Uncle Vernon, a very large, beefy man, with hardly any neck, was sitting at the table, sipping his coffee and reading the morning post. His bony Aunt Petunia was peering through the lace curtains on the window. After a moment, she spoke. "Everyone in this blasted district is buying a dog, or a mangy cat. Some of them are even sinking low enough to buy one of those filthy birds. All disgusting, if you ask me." She threw a dark look at Harry, telling him that she was talking about his own pet owl. Harry disregarded this, as he was used to being treated this way. He obese cousin was drooling at a chocolate commercial that was showing on the counter television. "And you carp about people getting dogs! Look at this!" he said, making sure to keep his voice down. Harry shook his head at the sight, and made his way over to the stove for cooking. Pulling up his over grown sleeves, and running a hand through his wild, jet black hair, he resumed his cooking duties. "Hurry up with the cooking! We don't have all day, you know. When you're finished, you'll do well to get your clothes on. You're going with us today, so you don't have any time to lolly-gaggle!" said his Uncle Vernon in an unusually calm voice. Harry almost let the eggs char absorbing what his Uncle had just purposed. "M-Me? Go with you? T-Today? But, I-I'm not suppose-" he began. But he was cut off by Dudley's blubbers. He was depressed enough as it was, without having to go with them today. His eyes were wide as he listened to the conversations going on around him. "NOOOOOOO! I don't want it going with us! Today is my day!" Dudley cried. Obviously fake tears began to make their appearance, and his Aunt would have done anything to stifle them. She threw a worried look at Vernon, who simply shook his head. "Oh, Vernon, can't we-? She started, thinking. "I'm sorry Dudley, Petunia, but we will be gone far to long for it," (Harry figured this 'it' was him) "to stay here alone. For all we know, we'll come back to find the house in ruins. I refuse to let it stay here alone until eight tonight. It's outrageous, the idea." His portly cousin was wailing, the breakfast was burning, and Vernon was turning a very murky shade of purple. "Cook the breakfast!" he yelled at Harry, who snapped back from his bewildered gaze. He angrily brought the burnt food over to the table, where Dudley snatched more than four times what he needed, stuffing it down through his false tears. All Harry got out of it was a half a piece of bacon, and a spoonful of eggs, but never complained about it. "Now go get dressed!" his Aunt said. Dudley was starting his crying feign. "I'm sorry, my little Dudly-Dudleykins, but your fathers right. Please don't cry." "Boy, you will do well to respect your Aunt, and do what she says! Now GO!" his Uncle roared. But Harry wasn't moving. As he had sat there, eating, he had devised a clever plan. A broad smile on his face was what he had to show for it. "And what, may I ask, are you so smug about? GO NOW!" Vernon was already a shade of crimson, which signaled Harry's response. "OK, before we leave let me just write to my Godfather," (he stressed this word) "and tell him what a wonderful time I will be having today." a smile streaked across his face. "I'll be sure to add how I wasn't to do any of the decision making in this situation. I'm sure he'll be please to hear that. Unless you want to go and disappoint the man, and let me stay here, locked away, even." Harry glowed at his ingenuity. He almost wished he could have taken it back, though. Because if he would have know then, what he knows now, he wouldn't have said a word. (At least, that's what he thinks.)  
  
  
  
  
  
Part 1  
  
  
  
  
  
A ample smile came over his Uncle's face, which was something Harry wasn't expecting. He raised a suspicious eye brow, but held his tongue to distinguish the outcome of his proposal. Maybe, just maybe, it would work. 'I wonder what he's thinking,' Harry thought. Odder even still, he motioned to Petunia, and Harry became even more wary of what his own uncle was planning. 'Oh, good Godric, what's he thinking up now.' Harry began to imagine. Vernon stood, and whispered something obviously evil into her ear. An even broader grin changed her expression from disgusted, to visibly happy. Something about this bothered Harry, for he'd rarely seen his Aunt so blissful. He knew they were up to something, but listened to is instincts, and kept his mouth shut tight. Dudley was getting the feeling he was missing out on all of this delight, and his eyes watered up with tears. "Mommy will tell you in the car. Don't you worry." She shot Harry a nasty little grin, winked at Dudley, and motioned his fat bottom out of the kitchen, following him all the way. The only two left were Harry and his Uncle. "Ok, boy. You win. You can stay. But you better be bloody grateful for all we do for you. Stay here until I leave." Then, as he stood up, he threw Harry a look, which told him to stay put. And so he did. It took his Uncle, in Harry's estimation, at least ten minutes, but he finally herd the snap and lock of the front door. He stood, stretched, and made his way back up to his tiny room. On his way, he noticed something rather odd. The cupboard, the one that help his broomstick, The Firebolt, was unlocked. No padlock, no bolts, nothing. "Strange. That's a first. And the git even forgot to lock the back door." Up I his room, a familiar rap on his window signaled Hedwig's return. "Hedwig! You're back!" Harry ran over to the broken window, threw open the hatch, and in a rush of feathers, the snow owl flew in and landed on his bed with a letter. Hedwig gave Harry a affectionate nip after he gave her an owl treat. He plopped down on the bed and thrashed open the parchment. It was from Ron. It read:  
  
Dear Harry, Thanks for the letter. We're all fine. Still living it up were you are? I'll keep this short, but dad said you're coming over for the end of the summer! Can't wait to see you. Hope I can send you more news when I get it. Ron  
  
Harry almost leapt into the air at the news, but kept his cool. 'I've got to write Ron!' Once again, Harry found himself devising clever plans. Now, he had an even better one. "Hedwig, listen, you've got to get this to Ron quickly." He took a piece of crumbled parchment out of his desk, along with I feather quill and a bottle of ink. Scribbling a quick note, he ran over to Hedwig, coupled it securely to her leg, and opened the window. The note had said: Dear Ron, The Dursley's left me here, alone. We have until eight tonight. Bring Fred and George if you like. No need to reply. There's a large field about a mile or two behind the house. Bring your broomstick. Harry  
  
He trotted over to his desk, so happy at the thought of seeing his best friend he dropped the bottle of ink he was using and it shattered all over the floor, sending shards of glass and ink everywhere. Harry swore loudly at his actions. He looked around, taking in the effect of what he had done, and went to retrieve a roll of paper towels. On the way, he noticed all of the doors that were usually latched tight were all ajar. "Yep, I knew it. They're up to something," said a very skeptical Harry. Cleaning up his room, he had a lot of time to think. The first thing that came to his mind was how much fun he was going to have with Ron. Then another thought came over Harry. Cho Chang. The beautiful Ravenclaw seeker, that Harry venerated. Eventually, he snapped out of his love struck gaze, and one very grave contemplation came to mind: 'How is Ron going to get here?' Floo powder came to Harry's thoughts. The concept of Aunt Petunia's spotless living room becoming a chaotic mess by Fred and George smashing open the fireplace (again) was horrific. And sure enough, his thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash in the living room.  
  
  
  
  
  
Part 2  
  
  
  
"Well, today just isn't my day, is it?" Harry said to no one in particular. Muffled sounds came from the den, only a few of which Harry could distinguish through his open door. "Oh god, Harry's gonna kill us, Fred! Clean it up fast-" "I think he herd us!-" "Well, we have ourselves a couple of Sherlock's here. I'm sure Harry didn't here his fireplace being blasted out-" All of which Harry could hear on his way down the stairs. As he'd expected, it was Ron Fred and George, all laying on the floor, tangled in their three broomsticks. All of their flaming red hair was covered in soot from the fireplace, and they all tried to shake it out heavily, covering the floor in dust and other bits and pieces from the fireside. Ron was wearing a pair of dusty jeans and a very vibrantly colored t-shirt, which had two large 'C's on it. Fred and George were wearing identical black robes, looking gray now, which Harry expected to be there old Hogwarts robes, as they fit very snugly to them. When Harry walked in, they all scrambled to get up and fix the clutter around him. Harry was too happy to get mad at them right now, for he hadn't seen any of them since the last day of Hogwarts. They all smiled at Harry with grimy matter all over their faces. "Harry!" George yelled. "Great to see you! Let me just. Um, fix this up so we don't have any, uh, problems with your, um, did you say they were related to you some how?" He gave a short laugh, and smiled at Harry, patting him roughly on the shoulder, sending dust from his robes everywhere. "George said it, Harry. It's been so," (he held out 'so' for quite some time) "boring at the Burrow without you! I can't believe your dim- witted Uncle acutely let you stay here, alone. You would think he would at least have the brains to notice that you haven't seen any of your friends over the summer break. Of course you were gonna' invite someone over on your one day of freedom!" said Fred. "Actually, I don't think he has the brains for that, Fred," his twin brother said in amusement. He and Fred turned around, muttered something, whipped out their wands, and the whole fireplace zipped back to it's original form. Harry could have hugged Ron, but held back. He was extremely happy to see him. "Hiya' Harry! Missed you all summer! Sorry, I forgot your Aunt had the fireplace like that." Ron bellowed. A sodden smile showed on his face under all of the grime. "Missed you two! It's okay. You wouldn't believe what the Dursley's have put me through over the summer! Hell, as usual. Thanks a lot for coming, you three. I needed a break from lard man and his obese son. Not to mention his emaciated house wife." He said in an announcers sort of voice. They all gave a immense laugh at this, and started towards the back door. "You know, I think the Dursley's are up to something." said Harry. "Really?" the three chimed. "Yeh', they left all of the doors that they usually close, open, and all of the doors they usually lock, unbolted. Curious, eh?" The three boys all nodded in agreement. Harry went to the cupboard, pointed at the unlatched door, proving his point, and retrieved his Firebolt. "Well, I'm not going to let them ruin my day! God knows they try." All four of the boys marched out the back door, which was unlocked, to the small grove of trees that housed the backyard. Fred 'accidentally' stepped on Aunt Petunia's flower bed on the way out. "We can't fly through there, it's too dense." said Ron. "Duh, genius. How long-" Fred started, but he then looked at Harry. It was the first time Harry had been on his broomstick for quite some time now, and he was ready for another go at it. He had already mounted his broom as was about to push off when Ron shouted- "Harry! What in the name of Godric do you think you're doing?! Someone will see!" But Harry didn't care. He had made up his mind. He was looking from Ron, to the twins, to the thick grove in front of him. "I'm flying, what does it look like I'm doing, Ron? You're not a Griffindor for nothing, you know. We have to take a chance every once in a while! Aren't you coming?" "You must be stark raving mad!" Ron screeched. "You'll get battered in there! And do you remember the last time we 'took a chance'? Made the front page of the Daily Prophet, if I remember, right Harry?" "What are we going to do? Walk? It will take up half our day, even if it is just a mile! And who said anything about going through it? I'm going over it!" Harry said, and he kicked off hard from the ground. He felt that same wonderful feeling in the pit of his stomach again, the one he only felt when he was airborne. "Are you three coming or not?" Fred and George snapped out of their daze, and joined Harry in the air. "This is crazy, but nothing new," Ron muttered. He sighed and leapt up in the air with his broom.  
  
"If we're really gonna' do this, shouldn't we at least try to fly low or something?" Fred said, floating in full view of the neighbors houses. "We wouldn't want another accident to happen, eh Ron? Harry?" George bellowed over the trees. "I can see it now. 'Four boys flying on broomsticks shocks muggles'. Almost like the old headline, right?" Harry choked up a fake laugh and Ron blushed red around the ears. "Shut up you stupid git," said Ron. They all started flying above the thick orchard of trees below, to a field that would promise to make Harry's perfect day complete. Part 3  
  
  
  
Harry's huge shirt and jeans were bashing him in the sides, but he didn't care. From where Harry, Ron, Fred, and George where flying, you could see the vast open field in the far off distance. They were all flying in silence, and that was something Fed and George were not about to tolerate. They slowed down to a unhurried speed, right behind Ron, and pulled a small something out of their pockets. It was a 'Filibuster Firework'. They got on either side of an ill aware Ron. Harry knew they were up to something. He flew back behind Ron to see what they were up to. It was a rare charm to show your vice on your face, and an even rarer charm to be able to notice it. The twins looked at each other, pulled up the exploding substances they had in their hands, lighted them with their wands, and tossed them straight at Ron. "RON! DUCK!" Harry roared at the top of his lungs. Ron immediately pushed down on his broom and hit the tops of the trees, barley missing what Fred and George had thrown at him. The objects exploded in the air with a great 'BANG!' "Did you see the look on his face?! Ha!" Fred and George were laughing and joking with each other at the prank they had pulled on Ron. "What the-? Ron started. He stared blankly up at this brothers, who were smiling sarcastically, stopping in dead air. "You thick pairs of squibs! You could have killed me or something!" Ron must have known something Harry didn't. Fred and George were not the people to mess with when it came to name calling. Their faces swelled up with anger. And you certainly didn't want to call them 'squibs.' Ron looked at Harry, and they both knew what to do. Harry would much rather help Ron than stay behind and deal with Fred and George. "What did you call us?" George asked with a little strain in his voice. The look on Harry's face said no, but Ron took a daring plunge into the anger that was Fred and George. "You herd me, you squib!" Ron doubled up on his broom, but Harry knew this was no time for mirth. 'You daft teen- Ron!' Harry thought. He rolled his eyes at Ron and kicked into full speed-away from the indistinguishable pair. Ron followed suit. Harry was far ahead of Ron, and the twins not far behind him. "Crap, Ron! Why did you have to go and do that? Huh?" Harry shouted. He looked back and saw Fred and George gaining on Ron rapidly. That made since, as they were both Quidditch players. (Beaters) They were reaching shaking hands out to their brother in fury. "Fred! George! STOP! Can't we work this out?!" But the twins had vowed revenge, and were bent on making Ron pay. Harry stopped dead in his tracks, hoping at least one of the look- alikes would bump into him. Sure, Harry knew it would hurt, but pain was no stranger to him. Fred was on a collision coarse with Harry and didn't know it until the exact moment that he smashed into him with a loud 'CRACK!' (Their brooms had smashed together as well.) White powder filled the air as all four of the boys choked on it's revolting flavor. Fred and Harry toppled through the thick branches and hit the ground with a thud. "Ugh! What the hell-" Fred started. He started chocking and white dust shifted out of his mouth. Harry looked at him, bruised but smiling. "Hey, you guys left me no choice." He smiled a mischievous smile, and brushed some of the white material off of his huge shirt. Fred wore a ghastly expression on his face. "Hey, um, what was that white stuff?" Harry asked. "White stuff? WHITE STUFF!?" Fred looked up at his double with bulging eyes. "George, please tell me, oh, please tell me that wasn't-?" He almost pleaded with his brother, and stopped in mid sentence, looking up. The only thing Harry saw was George nodding his head and Fred collapsing on the rugged forest floor. Ron suddenly zoomed down through the outlet the boys had made falling through the trees. He landed next to Harry and sat down heavily between him and his brother. "Harry- don't you know? That was-" he rolled his eyes and let out a heavy groan. "Harry, that was the Floo powder that we were supposed to get home with. This is bad." Harry did the same the as Fred and flopped down on the gruffly floor under him. Ron put his grimy hands on his head and his head between his knees. "Oh hell, how are we going to get home?" Ron asked. No one answered. In time, George flew down and joined the knot of boys below. "I don't know, but I do know this. We are in trouble. I mean," he looked up, "what will dad say when he finds out we're stuck here? He'll probably get mad about having to come out here to get us." said George. Fred head suddenly snapped up. He abruptly looked horrified. "Um, guys. H-Harry, G-George, Ron..," he hesitated as if he were fighting his vocal cords just to get a word out, "I think I forgot to tell dad we were coming." Everyone started at him. No one could comprehend what he was saying, or that's what it seemed. Their mouths just hung open in midair. "Then tell me, Fred, old buddy, old pal of mine. How in the bloody name of Griffindor are we supposed to get home?!" Ron shouted at him. "I can see it now- oh, no need to worry about us, dad." he started sarcastically, "were just going to stay at Harry's UNCLE'S house for a while!!!! Oh, wait! That's right! You didn't even mention that!" He had a vein pulsing in his head. "I swear Fred, if you weren't my brother in would kill you." "Hear-hear!!!!" George shouted, trying to brighten up the mood. Harry knew they were in trouble. He knew he was facing the last day of his life, and he figured as much. "This is great. And it's my bloody fault." "Now Harry, let's not point fingers now. It was everyone's fault! Nothing knew in our book, eh Fred? Only, usually it's just you and me," said George. He looked over at his brother with crossed eyes. "We can always owl dad and tell him where we are. It's not that big of a deal." George said. He picked up a twig and twiddled it in his fingers. "Well, I'm facing the end of my life now anyway, so we might as well go back now. No use going to the field to fly if we just have to fly back fifteen minutes later." said Harry. He knew that Hedwig wasn't back yet but decided not to mention it in fear of being cursed. 'Hopefully she'll be back in time!' Harry thought. The four boys got up from their less-than- comfortable spots on the jungle base. Brushing off the twigs and leaves from his shirt and pants, Harry once again mounted his broom and took off in the direction of his Uncles' home. The set of boys fly high in low sprits, screwing up their faces in sadness, trying to look happy.  
  
  
  
Part 4  
  
  
  
Once again, the boys were flying in silence. Only now there emotions had changed significantly. No one wanted to talk. They wanted to just fly straight to the Dursley's', owl Mr. Weasley, and await there punishment. Of coarse the penalty would be terrible, but all four of the boys tried to look as upbeat as they had when they first arrived. Fred was looking up at the bits of clouds far above his head, and rubbing the top of his broom with his fingertips. Oddly, George was doing the alike. They were so much alike, they didn't realize it. Ron wasn't doing much of anything, just flying with a bemused look on his appearance. The sun was beating down on Harry's head while sweat beads rolled down his brow. Everyone was covered in Floo powder that raced off of their clothes and into the crisp air. Without warning, a loud yelp was herd from Ron. He was tangled in a shower of wings and talons. "Get- get this..ruddy-owl-off-me!!!" he shouted whilst fighting not to get grazed by Hedwig's sharp claws. He lost control of his broomstick in the battle. Ron was knotted in Hedwig's wings and brittle bird body. He and his broomstick fell through the tree tops while the rest of the pack followed close behind, trying to untangle the two. A earsplitting screech along with a load whack was herd from the low branches below Harry and the twins. Apparently, everyone was so tuned out that no one noticed that Hedwig was flying straight towards them. She shot out of the trees with an angry screech and flew out of sight. Meager Ron was laying spread-eagle hung over a tree branch knocked out. Nicks and cuts where visible all over his face and arms, and his shirt was torn in peculiar places jacketing his chest and back. "Ron! Are you ok? Ron! Get up!" shouted Harry. He looked down to see the same picture, just Ron, knocked out. "No use Harry, he's knocked out." Fred stated. "Oh, what are we going to do? It's got to be at least three o'clock!" said Harry. "Maybe we can carry him home, that might work.." George suggested. Fred smacked him hard on the shoulder. "Don't be dense, we'll never be able to lift him, he's way to heavy." The boys flew down and perched on Ron's branch, readjusting him into a more comfortable position, sitting him up against the trunk of the tree. 'Think, Harry, think!' "Hum, well, you know what we could do?" Fred piped. He looked to George who seemed to know exactly what he was talking about. "Oh no. I don't want Ron putting snakes in our bed! He'll never get over it if he found out we used it on him! No way am I doing that!" George said. "What!? What are you talking about?!" Harry chimed in, clueless. "Well," Fred started, while George shook his head, " In transfiguration we learned, this, um, well we learned this shrinking spell, and I was thinking." "That you would use it on Ron." Harry finished. "Does anyone else have any more ideas? Because if this is the only one we have, it'll have to do." He brushed some remaining Floo powder off of his pants. "None here," George alleged. "Nothing," Fred stated. "Ok, then. Fred, are you sure you know how to do this spell?" Harry asked. "Oh, sure I do. We went over it like, well, a lot in transfiguration, no sweat." He whipped out his wand pointed at a caterpillar sitting on a near by branch, and said, "Shrivelem Telleowsis!" Instantly the already small creature shrank into a minute copy of the real thing. Fred flicked his wand upwards and the shrinking stopped. "Wow, that was pretty cool. Just please don't mess it up when you do that to Ron!" Harry said cheerfully. He sat Ron up. Poor Ron, he was about the be shrunk to the size of a doll, and he didn't even know it. Harry shook him one last time just to try and see if he would wake up, but to no avail. He looked over to Fred, who had sort of a determined look on his face. Harry hoped on his broomstick and sat in the air, nervously looking at Ron. Fred scooted a little closer to his little brother. "Shrivelem Telleowsis!" Ron slowly began to shrink, smaller and smaller. His legs were no longer dangling over the branch, and his arms were no longer slung over the side, but close to him, and a lot smaller. His facial expressions shrunk, along with his clothes and shoes. Harry couldn't watch. It was terrible to see his friend in this state. So small, cuts and bruises all over, and knocked out. He looked when Fred had finished, and almost fell off of his broomstick. He saw Ron, or what he thought was Ron, lying against the tree trunk. He closely resembled an acorn with arms, legs, and red paint splattered on the top. George was laughing along with Fred. "Cut it out, it's not funny!" Harry yelled at the duo. They looked at him, with faces as red as their hair, and tried to keep a straight face. They instantly started laughing again. "Harry-" George started, trying to keep down the laughs, "-it's Ron! He's so small-" "-It's hard not to laugh!" Fred butted in. They both doubled up on the branch with hilarity, hanging on to each other so they wouldn't fall off. Harry couldn't take it. "You don't see me laughing, do you?" He felt dreadfully terrible for his pint-sized friend who had just been bruised up, knocked out, and shrunk to a tenth of his real size. He got mad at Fred and George, and flew over to Ron. He was very small, as the twins had said, but it a endearing kind of small, not a humorous kind of one. He picked up the fragile little body and dropped it neatly into the large pocket on his shirt. "I've had enough!" he said to the twins, who, even know the branch they were sitting on was about to break under their pounding weight, were still laughing. He flew up and out of the trees, and at that point didn't care if Fred and George got home or not.  
  
  
  
Part 5  
  
Everything around Harry seemed to be catching his bad mood. The wind started blowing harder, wafting and tossing his messy jet black hair into a frenzy. A few dark clouds set in over his head that cast a shadow on his fuming expression, making him look more and more threatening. Every few minutes, Harry made it top priority to check up on his small best friend, who journeyed un-knowingly in Harry's' shirt pocket, smaller than he (Harry was sure) really wanted to be. He went into a furious daze, starting up at the clouding sky while he squinted his eyes. 'You would think they would be nicer to their own brother,' Harry thought. Suddenly a single drop of rain hit him dead on his scar. "Oh great! To top all this stuff off, now it's raining!" Harry said. A rapid rain started to fall, making his look like a drunk hobo. Large clothes that were torn on every inch, cuts and scratches all over, and now he was sopping wet with rain water. He flew a little faster to avoid catching a fever. 'I can take this! It's only a little rain water.' Harry thought. He kept repeating this to keep his from finding shelter in the forest. He was sure Ron would drown in his pocket if the rain kept this up. He was extremely cold, and was shivering from the top of his messy head of hair down to his soaking wet shoes. A swift yank on his shirt sleeve brought his swirling back to consciousness. It was Fred and George again, tugging at his clothes to get him to slow down. "What do you want?" Harry said avoiding eye contact. "To apologize." Fred sniffed. "Harry, listen," (which was extremely hard to do in this rain) "We are really sorry. It's just-" "It's just that he's our brother. You have to understand. If cousin was shrunk to the size of a twig, wouldn't you laugh at his too?" George explained. The three suddenly burst into wet laughter. "Right! What was I thinking? That's not possible, even with a shrinking charm!" "Harry, please, don't be mad. We've had to live with his all of our lives. This isn't the first time we have done this sort of thing. We're so sorry." Fred said to Harry. He nodded at him with a smile. Harry glanced at Fred, then George, (or at George, then Fred,) and smiled. "Sorry. I was being stupid. I guess I understand." Harry supposed. "Let's get out of this rain!" He had to yell now for them to hear, it was pouring so hard. The three (well, four, rather) sped up quickly through the downpour towards to Dursley's. Making a quick check on the neighbors, then Ron, he dove over the last few trees and landed in the mud of the backyard. A splash behind him signaled Fred and George's landing. The trio of boys took off across the yard towards the house, crashing through the front door into the kitchen. Fred and George, at the same time, let out a great sigh of relief. "Look at the kitchen!" Harry yelped. He looked up at the mess they had made. The kitchen, as a direct result of their muddy clothes, was a mud- spattered mess. The clean counters had wet dirt splashed up against the sides. The refrigerator was covered with a chaotic muddle of mud. "Oh, what are you so worried about? Remember what we did with the fire place? George said to Harry, seeing his mouth drop at the sight of the kitchen. "Yeah, we learned a cleaning spell. Very simple. All it does is turn everything in the room your in back to the way it was five minutes back in time. It comes in handy when you're always making a mess," Fred inquired. Harry laughed at this. He knew what kind of messes they could make. They almost mailed a toilet seat back home to their sister Ginny in Harry's first year. "So hurry up and do it!" Harry piped. Fred and George stood up, gave each other a smile, whispered a few words under their breaths, and the whole kitchen turned itself into it's normal identity. When Fred looked at Harry, he gave a boisterous laugh. "No one move! Harry's mouth just hit the floor!" Fred shouted. George clasped his hands to his mouth. "I need five-hundred 'CC's of Gape-B-Gone, stat!" George shouted. Harry threw a foul look at the two, then laughed. Their clothes were still as messy, or if possible, messier than before the kitchen was cleaned. "Do you have a spell that can fix this?" Harry asked Fred and George. They laughed. "Actually, we do," George blurted out. He whipped out his wand from his muddy pocket and pointed it straight at Harry. He backed away a few steps, skeptical, but willing to give it a try. "Laundener Bufferden!" he said, and a blinding light shown from the end of George's wand, and all of a sudden, Harry felt as if his clothes were being ripped off and replaced with clean, dry ones. The light faded, and his clothes were waterless and comfortable. He looked down, and it was as if he had never worn the clothes before in his life. "Ah, that's much better." Harry sighed. He looked and saw the same thing being done to Fred, then George. "Where did you learn all these spells?" he ask the twins. "You would be amazed at all the stuff you can learn from the schools spell books. If we would have paid attention in class half the time, we would have learned it years ago-" Fred started. " But there's no fun in that!" George jumped in. "Harry, check on Ron. The lump in your pocket seems to be moving." Fred said, pointing to Harry's shirt.  
  
  
  
Part 6  
  
  
  
The lump in Harry's pocket was indeed moving. Harry was bent double laughing. His glasses slid right off the end of his nose. "H-he's tickling m-me!" he shouted while trying to stifle his bellows. "Stop! Stop Ron!" he shouted, making an attempt to aim his voice at the squirming mass. Harry reached into his pocket, and pulled out a squirming Ron. He looked even smaller when he was actually moving around. "Ron, calm down! Let us explain!" George said. The little figure was kicking the palm of Harry's hand. It was apparent that he had chosen not to open his eyes since he had come out of his pocket. He stopped striking Harry's hand as soon as Fred had spoken. "Oh, right." Ron said in a tiny voice barley loud enough for them to hear. He opened his eyes. Harry saw the guise of pure fury make it's appearance on Ron's diminutive face. "What did you do to me?! IS THIS YOUR IDEA OF A JOKE?!" Harry, Fred, and George had no trouble hearing Ron this time. The twins backed away a few steps, afraid that even a small version of Ron could do a lot of damage to them. After Harry had retrieved his glasses off of the floor, the three launched into the story of how he had come to be so small, and why. At the end, Ron just looked up with crossed arms. "What?" George asked, after a long silence. "What do you mean, 'what'? Fix me!" he shouted. He stood on his small feet and held both of his arms out, as expecting the twins to take out their wands and perform the counter spell. Fred and George just swung their heads around and whispered furiously to each other. As if he were expecting this, Ron just plopped down in Harry's hand. "So, Harry, how long have I been out?" Ron asked. He was still looking at the twins. "Well, since you rammed into Hedwig, and that about an hour ago. So, how is it?" Harry asked "How is what?" Ron said, looking up at Harry with a small expression of puzzlement. Harry sighed. "You know, being so small. It must be weird." "Of coarse it weird! Gosh, It's like I'm talking to a giant!" Ron laughed. "Not much different from being around Hagrid." Harry still had a lot of trouble hearing him, but he didn't utter a word to Ron about it. "Um, Harry, can we have a word?" George said under his breath to Harry. "Leave Ron on the table." Ron looked suspiciously at his brothers with a raised eyebrow. "It's ok, Ron. Just stay here." He put the small figure down on the table and walked over to the corner were Fred and George were standing. They looked a little worried. "Bad news Harry." Fred began. "We kinda' forgot the counter spell." George claimed. "Ron's stuck like that for now. Please don't say anything-" Fred said. "You've got to be kidding!" Harry shouted. Ron's head snapped up. "If you think he was going to kill you before, wait 'till I tell him this!" Harry said a little too loud. Fred and George put their hands over Harry's mouth, but Ron had all ready herd. "TELL ME WHAT???" Ron's voice was no longer a small version of itself anymore. Harry, Fred, and George all walked over to him, sitting on the table. There was a long, stiffening silence. "Ron, how do you like being small?" George blurted out. He looked at his brother with a smile, but the emotion was not returned. "Harry, just-" Ron commenced. He paused, his small chest rising and falling in anger, as he drew a sharp breath. "Just tell me what it is. I wont jinx anyone-yet," He said looking his older brothers. "Well, I don't know an easy way to say this, so I'll just get it over with now. They forgot the counter spell." All Ron could do was stand there, mouth hanging off his jaw, staring at his brothers. "Well, how in the bloody hell am I supposed to get back to,- well,- being big again? Ron said with a little stress in his voice. The twins shrugged at him, shaking their heads. Harry knew without a doubt that this time, they really did feel sorry for their little brother. "Well, lets make the best of our situation." Harry supposed. He carefully picked up Ron and walked through the house and up the stairs to his room, Fred and George trailing all the way. Upon striding into the room, Fred laughed at the window. "We did that," he said with a grin. "At least they sort 'a fixed it for 'ya, Harry." Fred said. Harry ambled over to his bed. He plopped down so hard it crumbled under his weight, giving way and tossing him and Ron into a heap on the floor. "Ouch," Ron said, blankly rubbing his tiny forehead with the palm of his hand. "No kidding," Harry said sarcastically. He had almost landed on him. "Here, I know the desk wont break, Dudley never used it." He sat Ron down on the corner of the desk so he could swing his legs. "Do you want us to fix that or shoot it an' put it out of it's misery?" George inquired, pointing to the broken down bed. "We know a spell-" Fred commenced, but Harry cut in. "If your not careful, someone's 'gonna think your smart." Harry said with a smile. "Hey, you two might even get to follow up on Percy, and be prefects!" Ron bellowed, but his voice was still barley distinguishable. "Dare I say- head boys, perhaps?" Harry alleged. The twins just looked at them with very serious expressions on their faces. "Don't even kid about stuff like that," they whispered at the same time.  
  
  
  
Part 7  
  
Time passed as Harry, Ron, Fred, and George sat in Harry's room, waiting for Hedwig, talking and joking. "Oh, almost forgot to tell you-" George said to Harry, fumbling around in his pockets looking for something. Fred had a look of pure ecstasy on his face. George pulled out what looked like, in Harry's eye, a normal bag of toffees. It was until he saw the bags label did he give them a disgusted but interested glare. "We got the idea from Bill," Fred said, feeling clever. His smile was so wide his freckles were barley detectable in the folds of his face. Harry picked up the bag and examined it.  
  
~*Vomit Inducing Toffees*~  
  
"That's disgusting, but what more can I expect from you two?" Harry laughed. Fred took the bag back from Harry. "They taste just like normal toffees, but a second after you eat them- WAMO! You're puking your guts out!" Fred said, mirth in his voice. He looked at his brother, and they automatically howled with laughter. "What's so funny?" Harry asked. Ron was still on the desk, and had decided to take a nap under a tissue. "Shh! You'll wake Ron up!" "S-s-sorry! It's just- we had to test them last week-" Fred started again, but he barley got a word out through his laughter. "And P-Percy just happened to be a-a-a-round-" George began, but he didn't have to finish for Harry to understand and start laughing in an uproar himself. It took them all about five minutes to quiet down. "Well, we hid his wand to get him good and mad. When he gets mad, he usually gets a toffee from the dish on the kitchen table. We planted one of our special toffees in that same dish-" Fred said. "And sure enough, the dim git took the bait. He was sitting at the table, talking to mum about the ministry, and he just rolls over and says- "(he screwed up his face and put on a very Percy like voice,) "'oh mum, I think I'm going to be sick,' and he pukes all over the place on the way to the bathroom. Stayed there all night! Almost got our wands snapped for that one-" another roar of laughter from the boys woke Ron up. "Wha- what?" he stuttered sitting up quickly. Harry had had to use the restroom for a long time now, but was having too much fun to pay any attention to it. Now he had to go. When he got back, he saw Ron sitting in the tissue, about to take a bite of a chunk of candy. "Ron! NO!" But it was to late. Ron took a large bite out of the toffee, and turned to Harry. "What's wrong with-" he stopped in mid sentence, his face turning a nasty combination of green and white. He lurched forward, heaving a small pile of puke on the tissue he sat on. "George! Fred! Why-" Harry dawned, but he suddenly saw why. "That's why. We just remembered." Fred responded. Ron, every time he hoist his insides out onto the tissue, he grew slightly larger. "Should've-----known-----saw Percy," but he was done puking before he could finish his sentence. His red hair was darker than ever, his shirt was wet down the front from the toffees, and he was also back to his normal size again. The desk was bending and the legs were wobbling threateningly. He flopped off of the desk and onto the floor in front of his smiling brothers. "It seems to me that that was a very effective way for you to grow up." George said. "It just came to me," Fred said, beaming. Ron just nodded in reply, still coughing, that is, until he launched himself onto Fred, punching him dead in the face, and giving him a large black eye. Harry and George were trying to separate the two, but they were latched together like strong magnets. Their quarrel was only interrupted by a familiar 'BANG" coming from the fireplace in the den.  
  
  
  
Part 8  
  
  
  
All four of the boys looked up. Ron still had his hands around Fred's neck, and Fred had his hand held high above his head in a ready-to-punch position. They looked at Harry's door. "Ah, That would be dad." George said, motioning them towards the door. They went downstairs to find the fireplace, yet again, blown away by the inside contents, and Arthur Weasley standing with his back to them, fixing the mess. He surely hadn't noticed them enter the room, or at least he didn't acknowledge it. Harry knew he was mad. He had the same familiar coating of red at the tips of his ears. "No note," he said plainly, barely whispering. This made all four of the boys nervous, like Mr. Weasley was going to detonate at any given time. The silence was only broken when Harry sneezed. "Bless you," Mr. Weasley said stiffly his back still to them. Ron and the twins looked like little school children, faces red and eyes large. Harry just stood there, in the middle of the family. "Dad,-we," Fred started in protest, but couldn't find the words to finish. He stood there, rubbing his knees together. "Were really sorry, dad." Ron said. Mr. Weasley just stood with his back still to them. "No note," he said again. "We know. Fred accidentally forgot to leave a note, dad. Please don't be mad, dad." he said, terrified. "Had me and you mother worried sick. Didn't think to even tell your sister. She's been crying. Had the whole family looking for you." he said calmly, but Harry couldn't help but notice that his voice sounded a little stressed, and it brought back that same awful feeling of guilt he experienced in his second year. Mr. Weasley turned around to face the boys. "Sit," he said simply, pointing at the couch. They did as they were told. "Explain." He clearly was at a loss for words in his rage. Taking turns, the three Weasley brothers explained the day from the time they got up, up until the present instant. "So, you decided to just come here, without the consent." he stopped, and looked at the window, where two headlights were visible through the closed curtains. Harry suddenly looked at the clock. The bright numbers shown:  
  
8:01  
  
"Oh no. The Dursley's are back," Harry said, still staring out the bright window. The lights went out, and he herd the thump of the car doors closing. "You've got to hide!" Harry yelped. He urgently ushered them in the direction of his room, but Mr. Weasley just stood his ground, thinking. "Harry, they'll find us. We'll just go. Ron will owl you." But he had waited to long, and the front door was opening, Dudley's laughs carrying over them into the room. "End of my life as we know it," Harry said under his breath. His Uncle, Vernon Dursley, turned to look at the family room where Harry and the Weasley's were standing, and he swore loudly. "YOU!!!" he shouted, pointing a fat finger at Mr. Weasley. "I knew the boy would do something if we left him here all alone!" he thundered, turning to Harry. He made a grab for him, but the Weasley's were faster. They pulled him out of reach, then Ron muttered, "Dad's crazy if he thinks we're going to leave you here!" Mr. Weasley had quickly turned and created a great roaring fire that instantly turned as green as Harry's eyes with a pinch of Floo powder. Right before the lofty figure of Mr. Weasley stepped into the fire, the twins and Ron thrust him into the pleasing flames that seemed to be kissing him all over. Mr. Weasley stammered backward on hid heels into Vernon, who didn't seem at all pleased. "GOT OUT OF MY HOUSE, YOU FREAKS!!!!" Harry herd his Uncle roar over his shoulder. "Harry go!" he herd a voice from behind him say. He could have stayed in these pleasing flames forever, but decided instead to go by the directions of the shouts behind him. "The Burrow!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. A rush of color and sound met his ears, and he knew he felt ill right then and there. He was tossed out into the living room of the Burrow, startling Molly and Ginny Weasley into a small screaming fit as if they had just seen a very large rat run across the floor. He stood, knowing he was about to be sick, faintly muttered "S-sorry-Fred and George. Ron-" not being able to mutter another word, Harry fell and passed out on the floor, only to be awaken by Molly in Ron's' bedroom, sponging his face gently with a warm towel.  
  
Part 9  
  
  
  
Harry blinked his eyes to focus, but someone had removed his glasses. He sat up, but almost immediately felt his stomach churn inside him. Having a feeling that he would expose his insides if he tried to even move his abdomen, he laid back down with a thump. He felt on either side of the bed he was laying in until Molly slid them gently on his nose. "Good, you're up. I'll go get the doctor." she said with a warm smile. "Er-thanks," Harry sputtered. Molly smiled at him kindly. She stood up with the towel in her hands and left the room with one last kind grin. Harry felt terrible, and it wasn't his stomach that was bothering him. It was his continence. He knew the Weasley's didn't have the money to pay a doctor. He felt terrible. He laid there staring absentmindedly at the ceiling thinking about what he could do. It was his fault he was sick, and the Weasley's were always more than generous in Harry's case. His stomach brought him back to attention- forcing him to heave in the bucket next to his bed. He almost missed. "Oh dear," said Molly Weasley from behind Harry. Hanging almost upside down, his looked under the bed to see two skinny legs in red high heeled shoes, standing in a pigeon-toed position. Pulling himself up to get a look at the rest of this women, Harry pulled himself over with the help of the now slightly stained sheets. His head lolled over to his other shoulder and he almost broke his neck turning around to see this women. He gave her an up-and-down look and was entranced by her beauty. Her long, black, flowing hair swirled around her as if caught in a warm summer breeze, but no windows or doors were open. The warm complexion of her skin made Harry feel lighter in the stomach and head. He moved his eyes from his deep, red lips to her dark eyes. As he stared into the pools in front of him, a chill ran down his spine as comfort brushed over him. All at once he heard thousands of an echoing voice call out to his mind- "Sleep Harry. Sleep. That's a good lad-" said the misty voice. Was it a spell? Couldn't be, he had over come that kind of spell before. He was still staring deeply into her eyes that were now changing from black to bright green and back again. The voice called out to him again, and his eyelids slowly began to drop. "That's it. Rest now," it said. Though it was not a familiar voice, Harry could have swore he heard it before. Somewhere. He felt himself hit the bed softly and drifted off.  
  
"Miranda, are you sure?" "Yes, Molly he's fine. He's just resting." "But what did-" "Molly I insist, he's fine. He will be ok, just a spout of the flu." "How did you-" "I'm a doctor, I have my ways. He needed rest. I just-helped him out a bit." "Oh, I think he's up." Harry turned over in his sleep, slightly awake and hardly aware of where he was. "Er." was all he could find words for. "Oh goodness, Harry! Are you ok?" Harry saw Molly sweeping around him, bussing up the table and flattening her hair needlessly. "Yea- um, I'm fine. Er-" "Your at Ron's house. You have the flu and you have been resting for two days now," the woman on his left said. He looked to find that she was the beautiful woman he remembered from a dream he had once. "And," the woman added, "My name is Miranda Chang." "Miranda is a friend of the family, Harry," Molly said. She used this as an excuse to get close to Harry and check his fever. Miranda was obviously getting annoyed with this. "Molly, he's fine. A small fever is easily curable. Just give him this potion in twenty minutes and that fever will go right down. If he rest here for the day he should be up and about by tomorrow." "Oh, thank you Mrs. Chang! I don't know what we would do without you- " "Please Molly, call me Miranda. You know better than to treat me like a snob!" With that, Mrs. Chang stood without another word, hugged Molly, winked at Harry and strode out of the room quietly. "Do I know her from some-" Harry began to ask. "Well, er, rest now Harry. Like Mrs.- no, er, Miranda said, you need some rest." "Um, Mrs. Weasley?" "Yes dear?" "Do I know that woman from some where- her name, and her face, they sound so-so familiar," said Harry. He felt so much better now, quite the contrary, his stomach was still giving him grief. He groaned, but wish he hadn't. "Oh Harry, I knew something was wrong. I'll just go get Mrs.-er, Miranda," she made a move to get up, but Harry reached up, put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her back into her seat. He didn't want to cause a fuss. "Mrs. Weasley, please. I'm fine," he said flatly. Mrs. Weasley sat there considering this for a moment before she stood. "Ok, just do me a favor and get well soon," she said with another one of the sweet smiles that only she could invoke. Harry nodded and followed her with a smile out of Ron's room.  
  
  
  
Part 10-  
  
  
  
Just at that very moment, a loud recognizable tap on the window meant Hedwig had finally forgiven Ron for crashing into him a few days ago. Harry saw that she had a letter clamped tightly in her beak and she was trying effortlessly to get in the room. "Oh hang on." Harry said, jumping off the springy bed. He noticed the floor here wasn't nearly as cold the floor at the Dursley's. It reminded him of the Gryffindor common room. "Oh-" he had forgotten about Hedwig for a moment and she was getting frustrated with not being able to enter the area. She started flapping furiously and banging her beak against the windowpane. "Stop it Hedwig!" He thrust all of his weight on the window hatch and was knocked back on the bed by Hedwig in the stomach. This had not been Harry's or Hedwig's finest hour. The mass of Hedwig on his stomach was to much for Harry to hack, and he closed his eyes, violently heaving all over the floor. And apparently all over Hedwig as well. "Ohh." he groaned. Hedwig let out a high screech and threw him weight yet again on Harry's stomach, along with a scrappy, wet looking letter. It must have been from Sirius. He would have told Hedwig thanks, but it would have made her even more angry if he puked on her again. Tearing open the soggy letter, he read it in enthusiasm.  
  
Harry, Hopefully you're ok, wherever you are. Ron sent me an owl saying you were really sick, but I'm sure you'll be ok. The whispers around me are getting louder, so I'm moving upstate. I might even pay you a quick visit, but no promises.  
  
Harry's stomach gave a strong lurch at the thought of Sirius getting caught just because he was a little sick.  
  
I found an old wand sticking out of a trash can, so I wont be completely helpless if I'm in danger. Buckbeak is doing just fine. Take care. Snuffles Harry paused for a moment. His stomach had not liked being hit head-on by an owl. There was a P.S:  
  
P.S-Stay out of danger  
  
He put the sodden letter under the glass on his bedside table. The room was covered in puke. He didn't even want to crawl back into the sheets now. To make matters worse-his stomach gave a huge pitch-and he found himself on the floor-violently heaving all over everything. Harry was on all fours, and after a moment of tossing his head his glasses slid off his sweaty nose and shattered when they came in contact with the watery, disordered mess. He held his stomach, held it so tight that his fingernails dug into his abdomen. He rolled over on his side- small sprits of blood and vomit coming out of his open mouth. Molly had obviously been in to check on Harry, or else he would still be drowning in the nasty pool of body fluid. As he was laying there- the door had opened and Harry could only see Molly's feet running over to his side as a dish of juice and muffins went crashing to the floor. He could only distinguish his name in stifled scream. (As if she had her hands to her mouth.)  
  
  
  
  
  
Ron's POV- Ron stood in the kitchen, helping his mom with the cooking, very much enjoying his life-sized self again. Molly was baking lemon poppy seed muffins for Harry, thinking they would calm his stomach a little. He was pouring some orange juice into a tall glass. The doctor was sitting in the living room eating crackers and drinking milk. But why was she still here? Harry was getting better-and there was really no reason for her to stay at this point. Fred and George came into the room, looking vaguely depressed about something. "Oh you'll get over it," Ron heard Molly say to the twins as they sulked outside with broomsticks under their arms. They only mumbled in response. Ron watched them mope outside-looking more dismal than ever. He almost followed them-but didn't want to risk getting his nose blown off by his irritable brothers. "Mum, what did they-" Ron started to ask. "Don't ask me-" she began, "ask your brothers." She nodded towards the back door and shoed him out of the kitchen. Ron really had no intention of asking them, but luck would have it that he ran into them coming out of the door. They almost had tears in their eyes, but said nothing to acknowledge their little brother. George just lifted his head and kept walking. Fred the same. "Good for nothing-" "Can't do anything here-" Ron could only hear mummers, and fewer he could understand. He followed along to the garden to where they were to fly, and sat in the grass trying to make out every word of what they were saying. He had never seen Fred and George look like this before. The faces were as red as their hair, but their eyes suggested that their childhood puppy had been run over by a truck. Teary eyed and scarlet, they only glanced at Ron before jumping on their brooms and taking off. Ron only sat there, watching them. Before long, a bird shaped shadow few on his shoulders. No doubt Sirius answering one of Harry's letters again. 'I wish I could afford an owl,' Ron found himself thinking as he saw Hedwig fly towards the window of Harry's staying room at the top of the house. 'Of coarse, that would make him look bad.' but he never finished the thought as he stared opened mouthed at Hedwig- bashing herself against the window. He heard Harry's faint shout as the window opened and Hedwig disappeared out of sight. "What the-??" Fred said over Ron's shoulder. They flew up towards the window to get a closer look. Ron was still sitting in the grass with his mouth hanging open. "HARRY!" His mothers voice carried over to him easily through the closed window. The very word-the way his mother said it- made him kick himself mentally for thinking bad about Harry. Ron knew something had to be wrong. Fred and George were beating on the window pane, vainly trying to get inside. "What is it????" Ron called to them. But he was ignored. Disregarding the grass stains all over the knees of his pants, he jumped from his seat in the lawn. Fumbling for his footing he ran into the house. It was total chaos. He reached the base of the stairs and heard his mother yelling for the doctor. He was about to run to find her-but before he could utter a word a whirl of red and black flashed pass him, zooming itself up the staircase. He leapt over four stairs at a time. Now would have been the best time to have a broom. The set of steps shook under the pounding weight. As he reached the last step (panting and very sweaty) he noticed all of the screaming and uproar had seized. "Can it mom," one of the twins said angrily. You could almost hear the antagonism in his tone. Ron stood frozen listening to them speak from the outside hall. "Well-well." she paused as if having a debate with her own mind. "Well you didn't have to break the window. No need for that at all. No, no, no," she held. Someone moved across the room towards the door. "And just where do you think you're off to?" his mothers voice sounded almost angry at this point. "Out," another twin was speaking, only in short grunts. "Oh no-no! You are both staying here-you'll clean up this mess if I have to use a whip!" Her voice was shrill and her consonants crisp. "Harry would go numb-" (Ron had been wondering when Harry's name would come up)- "if he saw this disarray. Clean it-now." More shuffling was heard towards the door. "Miranda dear-are you coming?" "No- Harry might wake up and he might need me. Best if I just stay here," the Doctor reasoned sweetly. Molly was headed for the door once again. Ron slid behind the door in the shadows trying his hardest not to get his face smashed by the door flinging open. He really didn't want to see this 'mess' his mum was talking about, so he stayed on the outside of his room. His mother came out-stomping down the stairs with a tray of glass and soggy muffins. Once she was gone, Ron pressed his ears tightly against the oak door. Listening contently to the conversation within. "George-er-no, Fred," it was the doctor, "what is going on? I have never-never seen you act this way." More movement of feet. "It's mum," one of the pair, Fred, was evidently speaking this time. "She tricked us." "Tricked you? How?" The doctor sounded intrigued. "Well-she." "She what? It can't be that bad, can it?" An empty silence filled the room and Ron heard chairs being drawn. "Yesterday-when we came back- we did what we always do. Go up to our room and check for owls," George was saying. "Owls? For what?" the doctor asked. "Joke shop," Fred answered. "People are always ordering our stuff." He sighed heavily. "But-but mum-she was cleaning our room and came across our new order forms- and everything we have ever come up with." He sniffed, almost about to cry. "Then what happened?" the doctor asked, interested. "She burned it," they said together. "Everything." More silence and a couple of sniffs from the twins. After a long silence, Miranda spoke. "You know what you have to do now, right?" "What?" they said together, again. "Find a better hiding place for it."  
  
  
  
Part 11  
  
  
  
Both boys inside the room exchanged small, miniscule laughs. "Yes-we could do that," Fred went on. "But that's just the beginning of the story. She not only brunt all of our stuff." "She almost killed us." George butted in. Miranda heaved a hearty laugh. She must have thought they were joking. Ron stood with his ear pressed so hard against the door his head was hurting. If only he could find a way to get in without being seen. "M-Molly?" she said through the laughs. "Molly? Kill someone? Ha! And her own sons? Very funny boys, but you shouldn't joke about things-" "We're not joking!!!" George said a little to loud. The doctor must have been startled. She didn't speak for some time. "Ok-ok. Tell me. What's up?" A stiffening silence rang through the room and out to the hallway. It must have been a lot worse than anything they had ever experienced, or they wouldn't have kept so quiet that long. He herd one of the twins mutter the cleaning spell they had taught him a few years ago. After a long while, it had seemed the doctor had grown very impatient waiting. She cleared her throat notably and shifted herself in her chair. Ron was sitting by now, leaning on the door for support. "Er-" she started, perceptibly trying to speed up the conversation. "S-so, what happened then?" she said again, raising her voice slightly. "Ugh-alright," said Fred as Ron heard someone leaving his seat and walking towards the door. Ron quickly took note of this and stood, looking desperately around the corridor for a place to hide. He resorted to the same place he had hidden before, but this time, the door flung open a little to hard, hitting him square in the face. "Ouch!" he said, rubbing his nose. Before he could even grasp the fact that he had said this aloud, he was being pulled out from behind the door and shoved in the room. Fred was holding his arm very forcefully. Still rubbing his nose, he gazed around his room. It was now free on any mess that could have been there, and someone new to the house would have new known anything had taken place there. George was seated in a chair on the right of Harry's bed, beside an empty chair that must have been Fred's. On the other side sat Miranda Chang, the doctor, smiling up at him. "Uh-" he started, at a loss for words. He hadn't yet thought about how he was going to explain why he had been outside the door. "Oh Ickle-Ronniekins-" George started, "How many times have we told you not to ease drop?" Was it Ron's imagination-or did he actually sound disappointed? He thought about the question, but couldn't think of any other answer besides- "Never." "Er-well," the gears in George's head were working hard now, "Then how many times have we told you how to ease drop?" Ron thought again, screwing up his face, (trying to look like he was thinking) but once again he had to go with- "Er, never?" he said, more asking the question himself than answering one. George was not at all pleased with this. "Fred brother, have we ever said a word to dear Ron about how to ease drop before?" George went on saying, a little too sarcastically. "Oh no George, I don't believe we have," Fred replied, tightening his grip on Ron's arm. "But yes- now that I think about it-" he said, looking down at Ron was slits for eyes, "we have said something to you about ease dropping, now that I recall. Do you remember George?" he looked to his double. "Oh yes- I do believe I do." This tone of voice was getting on Ron nerves. They only did this when they were angry at him, since they knew for a fact it pushed his buttons. "I distinctly remember saying something about." "That if you liked were your nose was-" "That you'd keep it out of our business!" George raised his wand at this point and pointed it right at the center of Ron's face. There was no need for reply, Ron nearly drew his own wand with his free arm and pointed it back. The doctor ambled out of her chair and stood between the boys. "Now cut this out-really!" She grabbed both of the wands and stood expectantly in front of Fred, tapping her foot. "Hand it over," she said threateningly. Ron could feel Fred remove his wand from the crook of his back and saw him hand it to Miranda. Fred's arm unlatched itself from Ron's. "This is silly. You're brothers. You shouldn't fight like this." At this the three teenagers hung their heads like small school children. "Now Ron," she started, conjuring a chair out of no where. "Sit. You too," she added to the twins. "Now go on with your story. I expect Ron has already herd most of it anyway." Ron merely nodded. "Go on then," the doctor added before the twins could scowl at Ron. Harry was still resting, pale and sweaty. "Ok-here it goes. Yesterday, after we found out what she'd done, we were beyond reasoning. We didn't talk to anyone for hours, except each other," Fred had calmed down a bit, but there was still of note of strain in his voice. "We decided to eat a toffee or two, seeing as how it always calms us down." "Ah, the 'ol Weasley toffee trick. Your mum taught me that when ever Cho got upset. Continue," she said with a smile. Harry turned over in his bed. "Well, she must have figured it out when we did it to Percy, since she did it to us." "Did what?" Ron and the doctor sounded at the same instant. "Tricked him into eating some of our Vomit Inducing Toffee's." Ron snorted with laughter. He had been wondering why Percy was so sick. "Well, it's not so funny when it happens to you," George added. He must have forgotten that Ron had eaten a bit of those toffees before, but he didn't need any extra arms so he decided not to bring it up. "Wow," Ron blurted out. He hadn't meant to say this out load. "What is it now?" Fred said, raising an eyebrow. He looked suspiciously at Ron. "Er, well." he said-thinking quickly. The only thing he could think of quick enough was that he was wishing he hadn't been born with vocal cords. "Spit it out!" Fred snapped, ignoring the scowl from the doctors direction. He started tapping his foot on the floor. "Well, mom is more clever than we give her credit for, isn't she?" he finally came up with. "Well-she is!" he added to a apprehensive looking George. "Yea, well anyway, we spent the longest time sitting in the bathroom together, taking turns with the toilet." "It was dreadful," Fred said with tears swelling in his eyes. "I can only imagine," said Miranda. They all sat in a stunned silence for a while, right up to the point when- "BOYS!? BOYS ARE YOU FINISHED UP THERE YET?!" There was a calling from the bottom landing. "Speak of the devil," Fred muttered as he went to the door and opened it. "Yes mum! All done!" he responded as cheerfully as possible. Mrs. Weasley was clearly skeptical of this. "I'm coming to check!" Ron only rolled his eyes. Even know this was his own mother, she needed to find someone else to pick at for a while. The twins had been through enough to last them the rest of there days. He felt sorry for them, even after the treats on his nose. Molly stormed up the stairs, almost sending a shudder through the whole house as she came. 'Why is she still angry with them?' Ron thought constructively. He could see the sun setting through the window. The blazing orange was casting into shadow on his already electric orange room, making everyone squint a bit. The doctor even slipped on sun glasses. She seemed very content in her very cushiony padded chair. (Was Ron dreaming or had pillows popped out of know were? The chair itself even looked a good eight inches taller and wider..?) 


End file.
